Has George Clooney been paying attention or what? His directorial debut frequently strays into that strange universe occupied by the Coen brothers, while still displaying touches of the self-concious stratagems employed by Soderbergh.

And that’s more than appropriate given that this movie’s subject is Chuck Barris, the televisual genius behind The Dating Game and The Gong Show, who claimed in his self-styled unofficial autobiography to have had a job on the side as a secret CIA assassin, and defender of all things not red.

The plot sees our endearing, yet decidedly dick-headed hero Chuck (Rockwell, in a beautifully crafted turn) recruited by sinister CIA type George Clooney, just as Chuck’s long-cherished dream of making hit TV shows is coming to fruition. Soon, Chuck is using his role as chaperone on The Dating Game, as a cover to make forays into Eastern Europe with a license to kill. Of course, the story has any number of women hanging out of our unlikely hit-man, including a femme fatale in the unlikely shape of Julia Roberts, and an unfeasibly tolerant love interest in Drew Barrymore (in her best performance since E.T.)

The results are predictably quirky, juxtaposing any number of plot-lines, and presenting much by way of arresting, odd-ball images. What’s more impressive though, are the melancholic notes that Clooney has brilliantly woven into the tapestry of the film – notes which get louder as Confessions builds toward its impressive denouement.

An affecting and arresting exercise then, with deft direction and a compellingly disturbed central performance from Rockwell, Confessions is required, if demented viewing.